Jorge
Camacho analyses in this book Martí’s chronicles on
Native Americans applying anthropological theories by Geertz,
Clifford, Fabian, and Bartra. He explores the idea of
“assimilation” of the indigenous put forward by the liberals in Latin America
and pro-indigenous groups in the United States. In the 1880s, activists and
politicians in the U.S. held the view that the indigenous and foreigners had to
assimilate to the life in the U.S. and adopt the Western forms of civilization.
The “Others” had to adapt to the new way of life to be able to participate in
U.S. citizenship and survive in a society whose fundamental values consisted of
private property and individualism. While acculturation implied the loss of
cultural identity of a minority group, its proponents defended it as a
“benefit” because the new culture would integrate the “Others” or “lift” them
to the level of a “citizen.”

Camacho
points out some of the strategies of representation used by ethnographers and
travellers from the end of the 19th to the first half of the 20th
century. One of those views was to see the history of humanity following a
linear and ascending course. Another one was to denigrate the world of the
“Others”—blacks, indigenous, and Asians—because they belong to a culturally
backward society and they were physically and psychologically different.

To
dispel any notion of Martí being racist, Camacho
refers in his theoretical introduction to social Darwinism, Herbert Spencer,
and to anthropologists such as John Lubbock and Edward Burnett Tylor, who
applied Darwin’s ideas to society. These scientists were not racist. They
believed in the concept of “inferior races” that were still going through
different stages of civilization (savage state, barbarian, civilized).

Martí adhered to this school of
thought and supported the acculturation of “savages” because he believed in the
progress of humanity. He viewed the “inferiority” of races not in biological or
anatomical terms, but from the cultural point of view.

The
author examines the process through which Martí
represents events of the lives of the “Others” and converts them into narratives.
One of his mechanisms is the discourse of perspective [discursoperspectivo], a device whose goal was to
differentiate some cultures from others and/or to demonstrate unity, progress,
or backward movement of humankind.

Camacho
demonstrates that Martí characterizes the indigenous
in two ways: first, as a “lazy” being averse to economic progress propagated by
the liberal elites in the U.S., and then as a bearer of natural “goodness”
corrupted and reviled by others. Both versions express different forms of
judgment and are rhetorical inventions that permit the chronicler to confront
the government policies, which were intended to instruct the natives about the
new value system and to incorporate them into its plan of agrarian development.
Literary criticism on Martí has focused on the latter
of these two views, and therefore the Cuban Apostle has been represented as a
defender of the indigenous cause (Sacoto, Retamar, Lamore, Acosta, Lomas). It is certain that representing natives or blacks as
full of natural goodness implies a sense of rebellion because this discourse
already started during the Spanish imperial project in the 16th
century and was later developed by philosophers of the Enlightenment, such as
Jean J. Rousseau. However, toward the middle of the 18th century,
this image of the indigenous began to disappear and was replaced by the Indian
as a lazy and indifferent being. This was the vision that was repeated by
Montesquieu, Buffon, and Turgot. It was also the explication that accompanied
the era of imperialistic colonialism that has reached until the 21st
century (Leclercq 82).

Camacho
lays out in his book that Martí’s work includes the
representation of the indigenous as “kindhearted” people, but one can also find
a deep resentment toward them because he views them as indifferent,
“uncultivated,” “lazy,” bestial,” enemies of economic progress, and, what is
worse, inclined to reject the civil institutions of the government.

In
the first chapter, “La ‘perezainaspiradora’
del indígena,” Camacho explains that Martí agreed with the hopes of a long list of Cuban
intellectuals who tried to advance the country and to stop the idleness of the
indigenous. Martí’s views must be seen in the context
of demands of liberal intellectuals who formed the governments of Mexico and
Guatemala, of the laws that were passed to bring about those changes, and of
the disastrous consequences as a result of those plans. There was consensus on
the power of free market, on private interests, on the value of immigration, on
homogenizing the country, on exploiting the natural resources, and on educating
the indigenous. These have to be convinced, and, if necessary, be forced, to
comply with the plans of the government.

In
the second chapter, “Los ‘indios hostiles’ en los EstadosUnidos y Argentina,
Camacho continues to explore Martí’s favorable view
of economic progress, of free enterprise, and of the need to acculturate the
indigenous. He refers to Martí’s chronicles, in which
the Cuban reflects on the North American Indians and on the political and
territorial changes that were happening in Patagonia. His way of representing
the Cheyenne, the “hostile Indians,” and those marauding around the capital of
Argentina reveals his acceptance of government policy and his support for
Nelson Miles and Julio Roca. Only by means of the army and a military campaign
against the enemies of the government was Argentina able to end what it
considered a problem. In this text, therefore, Martí
links Latin American independence with the project of the liberal elites
represented by Roca. The conquest and the industrialization of the territory
formally occupied by the “indiosinvasoresechados de lasfaldas de los Andes” (OC VII, 322) becomes the last chapter
of the liberation of the continent. For the U.S., however, Martí
favors a more just system for the natives and supports the idea of converting
them into people who are useful for the nation.

To
highlight Martí’s antiracist views, Camacho compares him
to the 19th century Argentinian writer Domingo Faustino Sarmiento,
who championed the annihilation of the indigenous population. Both Martí and Sarmiento looked at the indigenous as savages and
as a relict from the past, but Martí was less
prejudiced and more compassionate with the natives. He rejected racial
inferiority even though he believed that the Indians needed to abandon their
customs, their erroneous forms of thinking, and they needed to accept the idea
of culture imposed by the liberal elites.

In
chapter 3, “Hombres útiles: ‘Los amigos de los indios,’” Camacho points out that from 1884 on Martí begins to assume a more critical position toward
government policies regarding Indians, and his chronicles testify to this
change of mind. He criticizes government brutality against the Indians because
the latter “no guerreanporapoderarse de la tierra del
vecino, sino para defender
la propia” (OC XIII, 447). Martí
suggests here the notion of self-defense, maybe even that of the “just war,” an
argument that the critics of the conquista used to attack Spain and to defend the rights of
the indigenous people. Bartolomé de las Casas was one of them who resorted to this concept, and
Martí, who profoundly admired the Dominican friar,
was certainly able to remember him.

Camacho
makes it clear that Marti always opted for educating the Indians and
integrating them into U.S. culture. But in spite of his sympathies for the
natives, there is in his writings a recurrent desire to “desindianizarlos.”
The Indian would remain at an “inferior” level of development as long as he did
not abandon his practices and “erroneous” concepts and move to a superior
“state” of social behavior. With adequate laws, Martí
argues in his North American chronicles, the natives would recover their freedom,
they would turn into landowners [“terratenientes”],
and they would join the rest of the country.

In
chapter 4, “Originales, misteriososos
y pintorescos: el espectáculo
de Buffalo Bill, el ‘oestesalvaje,’”
Camacho demonstrates how Martí’s chronicles on
Buffalo Bill’s wild west shows use the mysterious and the spectacle to offer the
spectators a unique experience removed from their work and the daily routine of
modern life.

Martí’s representation of the indigenous
fluctuates between extreme and sometimes contradictory positions. On the one
hand, the chronicler acknowledges the Indians’ role of victims within North
American society, but on the other hand, he considers it appropriate that they
participate in a spectacle like that of Buffalo Bill, which perpetuates the
triumphant vision of the United States and obligates the Indians to reenact
their tragedy. Martí recognizes their humanity, but
at the same time he underscores the opposite: their fierceness and their
behavior mimetic of animals. This discourse is reminiscent of colonial stereotypes
enforcing opposite concepts, such as man/animal, culture/nature, head/body,
which were also supported by contemporary scientific views.Camacho makes it clear that literary criticism
that intends to approach the totality of Martí’s
oeuvre cannot ignore these aporias. To insist in the
beauty of texts by Martí and other modernistas
without considering this double process of exotization/differentiation of
the Other, which correlates with the mercantilizationof
the figure of the Other (black, indigenous, and foreigner) in the U.S. and in
the scientific discourses of the epoch, means to leave aside one of the
fundamental characteristics of his writings. It also implies to ignore the
pragmatic trait of his thoughts, the influence of scientific discourses on him,
and the needs of the market, which required him to embellish his text in order
to differentiate his chronicle from that of other journalists. In other words, Martí created a “style” and played with “fantasy,” just
like Buffalo Bill and the Indians played in the arena.

Chapter
5 of this book, “La posesióndelpasado: arqueología, americanismo y modernismo,” deals
with the organization that was founded in Nancy, France, in 1875, and which
included scientists from Europe and the two Americas. Its fundamental goal was
to study pre-Columbian civilizations, collect valuable artifacts, and create a
new awareness and vision of America. The European scientists had already done
the same with the Orient, and the American archive would represent another
component in the database of knowledge of foreign countries. Jorge Camacho
explores the importance of that organization and its connections with the
American continent, and he links both aspects to modernist literature. He
points out the disagreement and resentment that Latin American intellectuals
held against archeological research in Latin America and against the intention
of various art collectors to carry their finds to Europe or North America. In
this context, Camacho refers to José Martí’s and
Ruben Dario’s nationalism and anti-imperialism. But these concepts haven’t
prevented Latin American governments to use violence against their own
indigenous people, as the Sandinista Administration in Nicaragua has shown.

In
chapter 6, “’Cosamagnífica
y sangrienta’: La invasión
de Oclahoma,” Camacho refers to Martí’s
reviews of the Dawes law, in which the Cuban reiterates his confidence in the americanizaciónof the natives, which would supposedly
effect gaining better rights.Camacho
analyses the forces that led to the colonization of Oklahoma and Martí’s ideas toward the indigenous in 1889. The historians
who have researched the events of April of that year agree that the “invasion”
of the colonizers in Oklahoma was chaotic and from the beginning was fuelled by
the interests of the railway agents and by those who for years had tried to
gain the best spots (David Payne, William Couch).

Martí writes to his friend Enrique Estrázulas that the events in Oklahoma were a “magnificent
and bloody affair” [“cosamagnífica
y sangrienta” / OC XX, 204], and the “invasion” of
Oklahoma turns into another “espectáculo” like the
fire or the blizzard in New York. As the letter shows, Martí
enjoys and fears those scenes at the same time. They were “magnificent,” but
also “bloody.” They spiked the Cuban poet’s attention because they were epic
and violent, and they moved history. Besides, they satisfied his “nostalgia for
the heroic deed.”

But
Martí also criticized the U.S. through these “scenes”
and defended the cause of the indigenous. However, Martí
opined that acculturation and the adoption of North American citizenship were
the best means to achieve progress. In other words, he criticizes the U.S. for
breaking their pact with the Indians and for opening their land to
colonization, but not for trying to educate them in their own culture and
values.

In
chapter 7, “La cabezasocrática:
‘Los fieros’, los ‘incultos’
y la políticapráctica en NuestraAmérica,” Camacho
analyses Martí’s defense of the education of
traditionally marginalized groups, among them the indigenous, and how the Cuban
proposes to include them in order to avoid friction with modern institutions.

Since
the end of the 1880s, Martí saw with concern the
social differences in Latin America. A very cultivated [“cultísima”]
class coexisted with another one that was not interested in progress and that
was primarily composed by indigenous people and by “incultos.”
As Martí affirms in “NuestraAmérica,” this problem was not new. It stems from the
colonies, but since the middle of the nineteenth century, the elites had
decided to solve it: Annexing those territories and justifying it with the
ideology of progress and racial superiority.

Toward
the end of the nineteenth century, Martí proposes
therefore to include those ethnic minorities into the new republics, educate
the “uncultivated” classes, and thus avoid that they might revolt. In addition,
they might start a dialogue with the higher classes about their differences
through the right to vote and through active participation as citizens.

“NuestraAmérica” proposes a
democratic pact between the wealthy classes and the traditionally dispossessed,
but this pact also facilitated the imposition of the culture of the liberal
elites of their time. By including the natives, the elites were able to protect
their property and to contribute to what they considered progress. This is why
the situation of the indigenous didn’t change for such a long time. On the
contrary, in all likelihood the differences became more acute and the natives
had no other choice but war.

The
merit of Camacho’s book lies in the fact that it is the first comprehensive
study on Martí’s views of America’s indigenous
population and that it highlights seemingly racist tendencies in Martí’s writings, thus questioning the traditional vision
of the Cuban Apostle’s humanistic ideals. But far from portraying Martí as a racist, this critic concludes and points out in his
“consideraciones finales” that the Cuban writer was a
man of his time and like most Latin American liberals vacillated between two poles:
He criticized and tried to change the situation of Native Americans within the
U.S., but at the same time he could not escape the conceptual frame imposed by the
philosophy of the 19th century, i.e. the emphasis on material
development, on education, and on Europe as the model for culture.